And When You Go Don't Return To Me My Love
by ReadySet
Summary: When Mr. Schue assigns everyone to sing a song about their relationship with their parents, the last person you would expect to sing an angst filled song is cheerful, charming Blaine. Kurt knows better. And if he wasn't worried enough before about Blaine's home life, his boyfriend singing a song about going to war gives him plenty of cause for concern.


AN: This is the first time I've used a song in a fic, so fingers crossed it reads okay. I know that the interpretation of this song isn't exactly what you might think when you listen to the album, but when I first heard it, this was all I could think about. Out of context, it does fit. I tried to make it clear why Blaine chose it and I hope it makes sense. It's called _Mama_ by My Chemical Romance, and it really is a great song and definitely worth listening to, but unfortunately I couldn't find an acoustic version so just try to imagine one. Also, nothing said is in any way a slight against any religion. I know plenty of religious people have no problem with gays, so I hope no one is offended.

Disclaimer: I don't have to mention that they're not mine.

* * *

"This week's assignment will be about parents," Mr. Schue said, writing and underlining the word "parents" on the board. There were mixed reactions in the group, leaning mostly toward the negative side. It was no secret that not everyone in the room had fantastic parents. Even the ones who had decent, healthy relationships had normal teenage angst.

"I want you all to sing a song that accurately describes your relationship with one or both of them. Now I'm not saying it has to be happy. I want you guys to be honest. If you have a rocky relationship, tell us that, through song."

/\./\./\

Kurt was one of the few who were excited about the assignment. He was standing by his closet trying to pick out his outfit (because a performance isn't just about singing, every aspect matters) and was so busy chattering away about which song he would sing about his father that he either didn't notice how quiet Blaine was, or else he was purposely ignoring it. It wasn't that he didn't know how stressed Blaine's home life was. He just knew that Blaine really didn't like to talk about it and usually tried to get the conversation off of himself and his parents whenever it was brought up, so Kurt didn't try. Anyway, it was hardly his fault that his father was practically perfect. When he said as much, Blaine just sighed and nodded in a defeated way.

"Sweetie, what's wrong?" He asked, laying a hand on his shoulder.

"Nothing."

"If you don't want to do the assignment I'm sure Mr. Schue will understand. We can talk to him about it, I mean it is a little unfair, demanding we all sing personal songs about our home lives even though it's none of their concern and he has no right to be digging into your business like that-"

"Kurt, it's fine, really."

"Are you sure? You don't want to talk about it or anything? I know your parents are sort of…"

"My parents are whatever. I have you. And your dad and Carole are amazing; if I were you, I'd be jumping at the chance to sing about them too," He smiled.

"What are you going to sing?" Kurt asked.

"I haven't decided yet," Blaine shrugged, even though he was already pretty sure on his song choice. Kurt just nodded and headed back over to his wardrobe.

/\./\./\

Blaine put off his song as long as possible. Nearly everyone else had gone already. He thought that just maybe, with all of the incredible performances and emotions running so high that he could be forgotten and not have to sing at all. It didn't happen. Mr. Schue prompted him and of course he couldn't refuse because that would be just as suspicious and he'd have to sing anyway. So he grabbed the guitar from the corner and sat on the stool in the middle of the room.

Blaine could see from the shining eyes of everyone in the room that they were all expecting him to sing some upbeat song about his fantastic parents, or a beautiful ballad about how much he loved them. So when he began strumming quietly on the strings, he couldn't help but feel like he was disappointing yet again.

_"Mama, we all go to hell_

_ Mama, we all go to hell_

_ I'm writing this letter and wishing you well_

_ Mama, we all go to hell"_

Usually when Blaine sang a song, he wouldn't stay still. There was hardly a moment where he wasn't running around or twirling or jumping on furniture. He'd grin and put on a performance. Right now, he was rooted to the spot, nothing but his hands moving. His eyes were on the strings, so he didn't see the looks of surprise on his friends faces as a few recognized the song and others didn't.

_"Oh, well, now_

_ Mama, we're all gonna die_

_ Mama, we're all gonna die_

_ Stop asking me questions, I'd hate to see you cry_

_ Mama, we're all gonna die"_

Though the original version was punk, the acoustic version Blaine was singing was much quieter. It was strange, the song was still so un-Blaine, who sang top forties and love songs and Katy Perry. Yet, you could tell he was feeling this just as much as any other song he'd sung.

_ "And when we go don't blame us, yeah_

_ We'll let the fires just bathe us, yeah_

_ You made us, oh, so famous_

_ We'll never let you go._

_ And when you go don't return to me my love._

_ Mama, we're all full of lies._

_ Mama, we're meant for the flies._

_ And right now they're building a coffin your size,_

_ Mama, we're all full of lies."_

Where he'd been relatively calm the rest of the song, now he stood and leaned into the microphone. For the first time he allowed his eyes to flicker over his audience, allowing them to see that his eyes were swimming with tears.

_"Well Mother, what the war did to my legs and to my tongue,_

_ You should've raised a baby girl,_

_ I should've been a better son._

_ If you could coddle the infection_

_ They can amputate at once._

_ You should've been,_

_ I could have been a better son."_

Blaine looked angry now, at himself, his mother, who was to say. The last line felt like a punch in the gut to Kurt.

_"She said: 'You ain't no son of mine_

_ For what you've done they're gonna find_

_ A place for you_

_ And just you mind your manners when you go._

_ And when you go, don't return to me, my love.'_

_ That's right._

_ Mama, we all go to hell._

_ Mama, we all go to hell._

_ It's really quite pleasant_

_ Except for the smell,_

_ Mama, we all go to hell."_

Kurt barely noticed Blaine's fingers flying over the strings, he was too focused on the tortured look in his eyes. It was a wonder he could see anything through the tears in them (Blaine had to blink several times just to see the instrument in his hands clearly). It made Kurt want to go up there and hold Blaine until whatever was torturing him went away. He had to blink back his own tears, and he barely noticed when the key changed and Blaine began singing again.

_"We're damned after all._

_ Through fortune and flame we fall._

_ And if you can stay then I'll show you the way,_

_ To return from the ashes you call._

_ We all carry on_

_ When our brothers in arms are gone_

_ So raise your glass high_

_ For tomorrow we die,_

_ And return from the ashes you call."_

The last notes rang out from his guitar; the room was silent. There was no sound at all for several moments before the glee club finally realized the song was over and began clapping politely. Everyone looked like they'd been individually smacked in the face with the intensity of the song; Blaine only just seemed to notice that a few tears had slipped down his face. He wiped them quickly and went back to his seat, where Kurt immediately took his hand with a concerned expression.

"That was an intense song, Blaine, thank you," Mr. Schue said awkwardly. The rehearsal ended shortly after, and several people looked like they wanted to say something to Blaine, but none of them did. Most of them just sent him small, awkward smiles and hurried away or into other conversation. Blaine tried to get out of the room, but Kurt held him back, purposefully dawdling with his bag while he waited for the room to empty.

"Blaine, are you okay?" Kurt asked as soon as Mercedes left.

"Yeah, I'm fine," He said quickly, trying for casual.

"Not if that song says anything. You were supposed to describe your relationship with your parents."

"I know, I did the assignment-"

"Then I think I have a right to be worried. Blaine, you said that things with your parents were okay. That song is about going off to war."

"That's kinda what it feels like living with my mom," Blaine muttered, staring hard at the ground. He sighed heavily when Kurt continued staring at him, waiting for him to continue. "Did you know that my family is really religious?" Kurt shook his head warily. "I know that you're not, and I'm not much anymore either, but they are. Ever since I came out… my mom never misses a chance to tell me that I'm going to hell," His voice cracked as he admitted this. Kurt carefully guided him to a chair and sat him down. Even though he didn't believe in that type of nonsense, he knew how much those sorts of insults hurt. He was well aware of how lucky he was to have a supporting family. Just the possibility that his dad might not support him had nearly made him shut down before he came out. Even now it was hard to think about the alternative, if his father had hated him, like Blaine's parents did him. He honestly didn't know how his boyfriend handled it every day.

"When I told her that I was planning on going to New York when I graduate, she was furious. She doesn't pay that much attention to me or what I do, but she knows that I spend most of my time with you and she hates it. And then she found out that you're going to New York and she lost it. She said that this is a temptation, and you've been poisoning my mind this whole time. She said that if I went, that's it. I can't ever come back. I can't drag her with down me," He says with a shuddering breath. Guilt settles in Kurt's throat, and it's a moment before he can say anything.

"I'd understand if you changed your mind about joining me in New York," Kurt whispered quietly.

"No!" Blaine said at once, grabbing Kurt's hands. "I want to go to New York with you so badly. Next year is going to be so hard without you. But I don't blame you for any of this, Kurt. I love you. If I didn't go to New York, it wouldn't fix the problems she and my family have with me. They would still hate me for being gay, and I would be miserable. It's just…" He trailed off, and when he finally continued, his voice had picked up an octave. "I don't see why I should have to choose." Kurt's mouth opened uselessly, then closed as he pulled Blaine into a hug.

Blaine slumped, defeated against Kurt's chest, letting his tears soak his boyfriend's shirt. Blaine's reluctance to be at home suddenly made more sense, Kurt thought bitterly. He nearly always had an excuse so as not to be there. He would often ask to come over to Kurt's house, saying that it was boring at his place or something else equally weak. Now that he knew the truth, he felt guilty for every time he'd teased him about it or brushed him off. Certainly causing Blaine to disappear even more wouldn't make things any easier with his mother, but if it meant that he didn't have to deal with her as much, then maybe it would be enough. He thought briefly of his own father, who liked Blaine a lot, and Carole, who he sometimes suspected loved Blaine more than he did. They would certainly have no objections to him being around more often once he had explained the situation. Still, he couldn't help thinking this 'situation' wouldn't have arisen at all if it wasn't for him.

After several minutes of back rubbing and gentle whispering, Blaine finally straightened himself, hurriedly wiping his eyes. "She's wrong," Kurt said firmly. Blaine looked at him for a long moment before nodding.

"I know." Kurt wasn't sure that he was entirely convinced; being told something so horrible for so long, no matter how untrue, had a way of getting to you. "C'mon, we should get going, you wanted to go to the mall."

"Yes!" He looped his arm through Blaine's and kissed his nose. "I found a cardigan the other day that would look absolutely adorable on you. And then I am taking you to Breadstix."

"What's the occasion?" Kurt sighed happily.

"Nothing. Just- you."


End file.
